


Firstborn

by indexthisqualisign



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/F, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indexthisqualisign/pseuds/indexthisqualisign
Summary: Her mother’s grim disappointment at her sex lasted little over a year. For the next eight and twenty, Charlotte Lucas took upon herself the burden of regretting being born a female.





	Firstborn

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @eufry for beta-reading. 
> 
> The working title of this fic was "Charlotte Lucas is very gay". 
> 
> TW: Not a happy ending. If that counts as a trigger warning.

 

As the first born of her household, there had been no greater wish than that of her mother producing a son. True as it may be that her father had yet made his fortune, had yet raised to knighthood and had yet bought Lucas Lodge, leaving a potential heir little to inherit, it was a truth commonly acknowledged that the birth of a son was superior to that of a daughter. Accordingly, her mother prayed from the moment she realised she was with child for a healthy young boy who would learn the trade of business from his father. It was often said in their part of the world that, until the Bennets, there had been no woman in the county who had so fervently wished for a boy as her mother had. After her birth, her mother’s grim disappointment at her sex lasted little over a year. For the next eight and twenty, Charlotte Lucas took upon herself the burden of regretting being born a female.

 

Her mother repurposed her wishes for a son into hoping her daughter would grow into a fine lady—the soon to be Lady Lucas had been blessed by a few years of remarkable youth that she had utilized well into securing a match beyond her own class and family reputation. While the bloom of youth left as quickly as it had come, she held hopes that her daughter would be handsomer than any other Misses in the neighborhood. As their firstborn was a rather unsightly baby, acquaintances reasoned that she would grow into a handsome child. The same acquaintances reassured Lady Lucas that Little Charlotte, then a lively but plain child, would bloom into womanhood in time for her to be out in society. These hopes became increasingly heartfelt after Mister Lucas became Sir Lucas, and it was felt that with her family’s new distinction, the addition of beauty would be enough to secure her a respectable if not advantageous match. To the disappointment of all however, Charlotte Lucas grew from child to woman, but never did the bloom of youth improve her features nor figure.

 

Miss Lucas was aware from a young age of her family’s expectations and of the way she had most unconsciously and most unwillingly thwarted them. Yet she reasoned that life had not left her destitute in terms of contentment and happiness: she had grown more intelligent and sensible than her parents could have hoped any of their offsprings to be; her father’s title and the money he made in trade had allowed her to live in relative comfort as Miss Lucas; and, she had grown with the presence of her dear friend Eliza. Of these blessings she was most acutely aware and thankful.

 

Charlotte’s intelligence however made her capable of apprehending her position too well for her to escape the inevitability denouement of her situation in life. Her curse lied in their timely disappearance: her aging into an old maid was already becoming a burden to her parents and family, and Eliza—with her dazzling wit and fine eyes—would soon be married and leave the neighborhood.

 

Charlotte Lucas did not feel strongly about marriage—even from a young age, she had viewed it more as an institution in which she was expected to participate as a female than as the elevation of romantic love. She had always imagined herself married, in charge of her own home, but even in her fantasies she had cared very little for the husband that would inevitably be part of her fate. As she grew older, she began to have hopes for her position in life. She wished for a gentleman of respectable means and society, and wished for little else. She was acutely aware that Providence would certainly not be as kind.

 

When she was first out in society, the ladies with whom she kept company would laugh at her for being so unromantic. All prettier than the others, they hoped to make a favorable match and dreamed to marry for the deepest, purest love, like the one they read about in novels. Charlotte Lucas saw them get engaged one after the other, their suitors offering Charlotte a dance to be shewn as good and noble to the lady they were courting.

 

A young lady in particular, a Miss Mary Stuart, wondered during a ball whether Miss Lucas was capable of having the fervor of heart necessary to have a beau. Charlotte thought in response that she would have been overjoyed to have her heart incapable of strong feelings—as it was, on the dawn of her one-and-twentieth anniversary, her heart had been seized by a fervor so profound she doubted she would ever love another. Her friend Eliza had grown into womanhood. At sixteen, she had made her debut in society. While she was not the beauty her sister Jane was, she was one of the handsomest lady in all of Hertfordshire—and the handsomest in Charlotte’s eyes.

 

Wretched is the heart that loves without encouragements, that knows all hope is vain! But the romantic soul Charlotte hid kept alive her affections for dear Eliza. While her anxieties at remaining single increased along with her years, she never acted out in jealousy at the younger women who settled into a life she could only dream about—for while her love was doomed, she had not been slighted or made ridiculous by a suitor.  Her tenderness for her friend was enough to keep her heart kind, as being unmarried had yet to deprive her of the attentions of the person she loved most.

 

There had been times when Charlotte had been scared that she was too transparent about her affection: whenever she would scold her siblings and mother for pointing out the superior beauty of Jane; whenever she would insist on Eliza singing and playing before any other lady for the pleasure of listening to her music; when she would favor Eliza’s company over any body’s and every body’s at balls and other social gatherings. Luckily, no one doubted her favor to be stemming from anything but wholesome companionship.

 

Bitterness sometimes plagued her thoughts. She dreamed some nights, not of a respectable gentleman who would have her at six-and-twenty, but of a world in which she had been born the son her mother had wanted. How perfectly good it would have been, how perfect would it have suited the fancy of all parties involved. She could very well imagine it. Her sense and quickness of mind would have been celebrated, her plain looks overshadowed by her education, manners and standing in society. Worries about her inability to marry would have been inexistent. She would not have been expected to think of marriage until she was well into five-and-twenty, and by then, a fine Eliza of twenty years would have made if not a particularly favorable match, a perfectly suitable one. She would have been expected to find in town a lady of means; but it would be generally agreed upon after the engagement was made public that Mr. Lucas’ simple heart was more suited for a gentleman’s daughter with more wit than fortune, and a penchant for country walks over crowded functions. Eliza’s mother would have found solace in seeing one of her daughter securely married, even if she would have chastised her daughter for not finding a more handsome or wealthy suitor. Charlotte could picture it perfectly, how a childhood friendship would have grown into a courtship, and how their easy relationship would have made them happier a couple than ever witnessed before. The similarities in their characters, their senses and their appetite for stimulating conversations would have kept their love strong and their company desired by society.

 

But Charlotte Lucas was not born a male. As a female of limited accomplishments, youth and beauty, she stood to grow an old maid and burden her family, not rich enough to make her staying comfortable, but too high in society to allow for her to become a governess and earn a meager living. No, she would stay at Lucas Lodge, to care for her siblings until her parents’ passing, and there she would stay when her younger brother would take possession of the land.

 

More than ever before, she regretted not being born a male when she watched Eliza become taken by Mr. Wickham’s charms, or witnessed the obvious attention Mr. Darcy gave to her childhood friend. She realized then, at Bingley’s ball, more than any time before, the futility of her feelings and her lack of power over the things she held dear. It became easier, after, to engage Mr. Collins and see him as a means to escape her increasingly diminishing situation.

 

She did not love him, but failed to find it in her heart to care. She had known always that she would not marry for love, but to ensure her situation in life. She was certain of her decision, and often appreciative of her new situation and new state in life. The delights afforded by her partial independence were clouded by periods of anguish. Some nights, she felt sorry for being born a female and having been robbed of the chance to chuse. Being separated from her family and friends and Eliza, dear Eliza, was a price to pay. She felt deeply the pain of having to fulfill her marital obligations to a man for which she felt naught but friendly regard, and perhaps even more so, the expectations to be with child and shew a good example to the parish.

  


When she died in childbirth at nine-and-twenty, leaving behind in the world her firstborn, Charlotte’s mind, delirious with fever, thought in her last moments of the life that could have been. She had a vision of dear Eliza, coming from a long country walk with her hair teased by the wind, a secret smile on her lips as she met up with her in their small garden. She could see the embrace that followed, and she smelled the earthiness of Eliza’s sweat-covered skin before she felt her consciousness dragged down by an ineffable heaviness.

 


End file.
